Free Brook Street: Thief by Ava March Page B

lord’.”
    Sam’s eyes widened. “He’s a lord?”
    “Yes, but he doesn’t have a title of his own. He’s Lord Benjamin. It’s the correct way to address a younger son of a peer. His father, however, is either a duke or a marquis, so please be on your best behavior.”
    Sam’s eyes widened even further. “Where’d ye meet him, Cavin?”
    “Out and about,” Cavin replied, deliberately being vague. Sam wasn’t dim. He knew Cavin occasionally went to Clements and why. Their visit to Benjamin’s would only last a handful of minutes. Still, he didn’t want Sam to think Benjamin was just like all the others—another nabob with too much money in his pockets and without the brains to recognize when he was being bilked.
    “Out and about?”
    “Yes. Now come along. We’re almost there. And remember, smile politely, don’t stray from my side, don’t touch anything, and don’t contradict anything I say. Understood?”
    “Yes, sir, Mr. Fox.” Sam rolled his eyes. At Cavin’s stern glare, he let out a sigh. “Yes, I understand,” he said, without the scathing sarcasm. “I’ll do my best not to embarrass you.”
    “That’s not…” Cavin shook his head. “Sam, it’s not about me. It’s about you. It’s important that you make a good impression. Lord Benjamin is a good man, but to someone of his standing, appearances are everything. He won’t risk a recommendation if he believes it will reflect poorly on him.”
    Sam nodded, his gaze somber and determined and much older than his thirteen years. A bit of the tension that had been stringing Cavin’s nerves taut since they departed St. Giles left his gut.
    He glanced to the sky. Amber rays inched down the horizon, fading to midnight-blue. He didn’t own a pocket watch, but it had to be close to six in the evening. “Let’s go. We’re almost there.”
    They stopped at the third door beyond Avery Row.
    Head tilting back, Sam’s gaze roamed the tidy, brown brick town house. “Bleedin’ hell,” he murmured, his face going pale.
    Cavin knew exactly how Sam felt.
    After passing a hand over his own hair and tugging on his black coat to straighten it, Cavin rapped on the door. Thank heaven the bruise from Hale’s knuckles had fully faded, for he certainly did not want to field any questions from Benjamin about it.
    The same servant from a week ago answered his knock.
    “Is Lord Benjamin at home?” he asked, prepared to produce Benjamin’s calling card again. The one he hadn’t been able to resist slipping from the small pocket before he’d returned the waistcoat. The corners were tattered and creased, the elegant type slightly faded from the number of times he’d run his fingertip over it, but in the event the servant did not remember him, it would still do its duty in proving his acquaintance with Benjamin.
    “Yes, his lordship is at home.” Moving aside, the man opened the door fully.
    With a hand on Sam’s shoulder, he ushered the boy into the entrance hall.
    “Cavin Fox!”
    Looking up, he followed the sound of Benjamin’s voice to the landing at the top of the stairs. Benjamin was casually dressed in his shirtsleeves, cream waistcoat and brown trousers—a man at his ease in his own home. Fortunately he didn’t appear like he was hosting any guests at the moment.
    “What an unexpected surprise. Come on up to the study.” A broad smile on his face, Benjamin motioned to Cavin.
    He went up the stairs, one hand still on Sam’s shoulder and the other at his side, not daring to leave fingerprint smudges on the mahogany banister that had been so recently polished he could still detect the faint scents of lemons and wax.
    Benjamin closed the study door behind him. “It is good to see you,” he said, extending a hand to Cavin.
    “It is good to see you, as well.” He shook Benjamin’s hand. “Allow me to introduce my brother, Sam. Sam, this is Lord Benjamin.”
    Benjamin started, as if just realizing Cavin had not arrived alone, and then